A Little Bit Longer
by Baron Hotschaft Von Hugenstein
Summary: I lay there, immobile, as I counted out Mother’s last breaths. As her life slipped away like sand through the fingers of a child, I realized belatedly that her last word was my name.


I whirled around at the sound of my mother's voice, saturated thickly with delusions. "Oh, my Edward…" she moaned. I held her burning hand softly in my own, knowing she spoke not of me but of Father, also named Edward. I had watched him die, just as I was watching Mother follow him.

"Mother," I whispered, brushing a clump of her matted bronze hair away from her cheek, glinting with perspiration. "Mother, don't leave."

I was seventeen that dark summer as I watched over Mother. She was gripped with the Spanish influenza as the disease reached epidemic proportions. I didn't give one thought to my own concern, and I quickly learned to regret my never-ending selflessness.

As I observed my mother in her fantasies, I was aware of a burning point in my temple. I rubbed at it, my movements sluggish. When my finger connected with my head, it was like I had touched hot coals. My last thoughts were, _not me too_. Then an abyss of blackness opened in the ground and swallowed me whole, leaving me with no thoughts as I fell deeper into unconsciousness.

* * *

"How is Elizabeth doing?" A harried male voice poked one point of light into my black surroundings.

"Not well," replied another voice, this one smooth like silk. "I'm not sure how much longer she can hold on."

Could Elizabeth be my mother? That was her name, wasn't it? I tried to speak, but my mouth wouldn't listen to my brain. Another light pushed its way through.

"And Edward?" the stressed man asked.

"Stable," the silken voice answered decisively.

Edward. They meant me. I worked hard at making my lips move, but I was so heavy. My face was made of lead. I gave up on trying to move and listened to the conversing men, waiting for more lights to come through.

"Will he survive?" pressed the strained man, his voice bleak with hopelessness.

"I don't really know," the man with the velvety voice answered. I thought that perhaps that wasn't the whole truth. I got a strange instinct that the velvet man did know—but was keeping it from the weary man.

Suddenly a rustle of bed sheets piqued my ears. "Elizabeth!" The smooth voice was alarmed. Clearly Mother had done something completely unexpected.

"Save him!" croaked a raspy voice. Even through my stupor I understood that it was Mother who spoke.

"I'll do everything in my power," the soft voice vowed.

"You must," Mother continued. "You must do everything in _your_ power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward." I could almost hear the fright in the smooth man's thoughts at Mother's words.

I lay there, immobile, as I counted out Mother's last breaths. As her life slipped away like sand through the fingers of a child, I realized belatedly that her last word was my name.

* * *

It was very hard to hold onto myself. I didn't know how much time had passed, but I knew it couldn't be that long, since Mother's death. The thing that I clung to, what helped me stay a little bit longer, was the cool voice of the velvet man. I didn't open my eyes, so I didn't know what face the voice belonged to. And even if I could unlock the weights that held my pale lids down, I wasn't sure I wanted to see him. The face certainly couldn't be as lovely as the voice.

I felt it, in every vein in my body, when I was dying. Something was fizzling out in my heart, and its beats became deader-sounding and far apart. A sharp pain stabbed my side, and I moaned loudly. It was all I could do to make that noise; it deprived me of what little strength I had left.

"Are you all right, Edward?" I heard the silk voice close to my ear. I tried to smile, but I don't know how it turned out. "I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, but I promised your mother."

What? That made no sense. I felt my bed being moved. All I could do was lay very still. Then, after my bed halted, I felt something razor-sharp pierce into my arms. It was nothing compared to the other pains, but then I felt something deep in my blood. It was burning.

I screamed in agony. This burning was like I was stupidly putting my hand in an open flame but not removing it.

"My name is Carlisle Cullen," the voice told me. "I hope you can hear me. I'm sorry for all that you will endure. I am a vampire." He paused. A vampire? The skepticism almost dominated the pain for a second. "A very lonely one, I may add. I need a companion. No one will miss you. You seem…like a very brilliant young man. So I'm sorry for my selfishness for taking your life and replacing it with this…existence."

It was a lot to swallow on top of the pain, which was quickly climbing to excruciating. I cried out again. Was this what it took to become a…vampire? Was that what I was becoming? Only one way to found out. I locked my lips and waited it out.


End file.
